


A Case of Antirrhinum

by MiraSoraStone



Series: Cursed Hymns Trio [1]
Category: The First Drafthouse (Toonkind D&D)
Genre: All deities looked at these two oblivious idiots and decided they needed a push, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Polyamory, SUPRISE BITCHES IT WAS POLY ALL ALONG, Their wisdom is so bad you guys holy peck, so much pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28300284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiraSoraStone/pseuds/MiraSoraStone
Summary: Name of ailment: Hanahaki DiseaseSubraces affected: GhiblianSymptoms: The infected coughs up flower petals, or depending on severity, whole flowers. The flowers are said to carry symbolism or correspond to the one who caused the disease to surface. If not treated, the flowers usually grow to overcome the toon’s entire design.- Excerpt from The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Toonkind Ailments, Vol. 13Gille Trebble and Sammy Jax had been locked in a comfortable push and pull of Chased and Chaser, Villain and Detective’s Adopted Son for a very long time.And then Sammy starts coughing up purple flower petals.This changes things.
Relationships: Gille Trebble/Sammy Jax/Chifley Forde
Series: Cursed Hymns Trio [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2072805
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	1. The First Petal

If you had asked Sammy Jax where he pictured himself a year ago, he would have frankly told you that he didn’t see himself… anywhere. He had been too numb to even think about futures or connections or _adorably_ _awkward villains who thought they could just waltz in and steal a priceless artifact from one of Einquell’s museums, just because it was on display._

At least this time he’d given Sammy the courtesy of a Heist note. Barkson had taken one look at it, and at Sammy’s determined face - his shading a warm buttery orange despite how _much_ the younger toon had gone through - and had sighed. 

“Alright Kid, I’ll get you permission from the head of the guard to help. Hell if I or anyone else can stand in the way of a Nemesis plot.” He said, sighing out a long plume of smoke from his cigar. “You just be careful - villains are a tricky sort. Don’t forget to ask for help if you’re too in over your head.”

Sammy had nodded - determined and fully intending to solve the riddle on his own - and had then been swept off his feat by the overenthusiastic members of the Gille Trebble Task Force who were loud and bombastic and overjoyed to have someone chasing the villain again after many long years of inactivity. 

He didn’t know the full details about why or who had lead the Task Force before - Inspector Toichi Morinaka, a Ghiblian toon, always grumbled irately under his breath with grawlix intermixed when the topic came up and so Sammy tried to steer clear of the subject entirely. (Sammy was still a little intimidated by the toon, still too used to _running_ from the Guard instead of working _with_ the Guard.)

Meeting Casey had been like a bucket of water to the face - warm and welcoming and Yupean and _tree-like_ \- the first time Sammy shook her hand, it was all he could do to not think about mint and the thick scent of evergreen trees and green ink spilled in an alleyway over an outline long empty of color. She had noticed his shift in color, excited yellow shifting to a muted grey-blue, and had quickly bundled him into the Task Force’s kitchen for a mug of hot cocoa and some biscuits. With gentle coaxing, Sammy told her about that adventure. Casey had a way of doing that. Getting you to tell her your troubles and soothing them with something warm and sweet. 

Inspector Morinaka had clapped Sammy warmly on the back when he’d stumbled back out, visibly dazed but warmer colored in shading. 

“Aye, she’s a good one, Kid. If you need something, just find me or her and we’ll fix you right up.” he’d said gruffly before walking off to bark orders to some of the junior members of the Task Force - Guards who had jumped at the chance to not be officially on the Guard anymore. 

Which left Sammy with the task of trying to crack the heist note. And boy what a note it was. Sammy knew Gille could be scary, he _was_ a villain with a reputation after all - _but holy peck did Gille know how to write intimidation_. The words flowed and wove around and twisted and it honestly made Sammy’s golden eyes cross with how much of a silver tongue his nemesis had. It left him shaking and he had to sit down in one of the chairs that went with the table to regain his wits. 

“It’s going to be the Beakly Museum. I don’t know what he’s after though.” Sammy said with a sigh, rubbing at his nose from over his mask. His eyes focus on the light purple and orange dual shading to his hands and it’s then that he feels the racing of his heart, pounding against his ribs. 

Inspector Morinaka takes the note from Sammy’s other hand with a nod. “I’ll see what we can pull out from it next.” he leans over and ruffles Sammy’s hood. “Good work, Kid. You got us a location and we can take it from here. You just chase Trebble and leave the rest of the heavy lifting to us.” 

True to his word, the Task Force stuck their heads together in a big group huddle around the table, Casey bringing in snacks and drinks every once in a while when tempers started to flare and frustration began to settle in. Sammy sat in a chair, feeling a little small, especially when Inspector Morinaka started to curse loudly in grawlix. 

Casey walked over to the Ghiblian and smacked him upside the head with a hissed, “Language!” and a pointed glance at Sammy before handing Sammy another cup of hot cocoa a warm, “There you are, dear.”

Inspector Morinaka grimaced apologetically, the grawlix fading from view as he sighed and sank heavily into another chair. “Sorry Kid. We’re a bit rusty. It’s been… several years since we had to deal with his silver tongue. Can’t make heads or tails of when or what, the twisty bastard.” 

Sammy nodded, sipping at the hot chocolate and quietly relishing the taste as it went over his tongue. His shading went from a faint lilac to a soft contented buttery peach as he thought about the note. “What time did he usually do heists at? Before? I mean, he’s gotta still have _some_ sort of pattern, right?” 

Inspector Morinaka had been chugging some coffee that Casey had handed him and promptly chokes on a spit take. Casey reaches over and pats the Ghiblian toon on the back and glances over to Sammy with a wry smile on her tree-like face. 

“Trebble usually set these type of heists at night, more dramatic that way. Means less crowd control for us - at least, in the museum. A crowd always tends to form whenever things like this happen in Toontown.” she said. 

Sammy nods and sips more at his hot chocolate before frowning at the empty mug. “Gille is flashy.” he says firmly, the knowledge a beacon in his brain. “He’d want to do it at night, when he can show off. And he gave us the date - here, look at that line there, it’s clearly referencing the calendar. It’ll happen on Friday the Thirteenth.”

Inspector Morinaka sucks in a breath through his teeth as he looks at the line Sammy pointed out. “Makes sense… makes sense…” he mumbled, before sighing again and pulling out a cigar the same brand as the ones Barkson favors and lighting it with a flare of magic. Casey cleared her throat pointedly and jerks her head to the balcony of the Task Force’s building. Morinaka sheepishly coughs on smoke and Casey’s narrowed eyes track him as he wanders out to the balcony for a smoke break. 

“It’s alright Ms. Casey - I’m used to Barkson smoking infront of me.”

Casey reaches over and ruffles Sammy’s head. “Now don’t you mind that Sammy, second hand smoke is bad for toons and Reelkind alike and I’m not gonna have none of that in your head. Sounds to me like Barkson needs a talkin’ to as well and I ain’t gonna shy away from that ol’ pooch just because he’s here retired from the Guard!” 

Sammy flinches at the mention of Reelkind, but leans into Casey’s touch when she moves to pull her hand away. “It’s okay, Ms. Casey, honest-”

“Now don’t you start waving _me_ away, young man.” Casey wags a gnarled tree branch finger at him. “I’m not havin’ our detective gain a set of poisoning debuf from second hand smoke! I _will_ be talkin’ to Barkson and that’s _that_.” 

It is, of course, at this point that Sammy surrendered to his fate of being mothered by the Yupean toon. Privately, he sends up a quiet apology to Barkson for the toon that was soon going to be on the warpath towards his stalwart if accidental guardian. 

~*~

The night of Friday the Thirteenth dawned crystal clear, and Toontown was abuzz with shenanigans and mischief. There was a sense of anticipation thick in the air, and Sammy’s heart pounded as his shading split into a mix of a brilliant excited blue and stalwart orange and the slightest threads of yellow. His gold eyes glimmered in the dark, set alight by the brilliant search lights currently sweeping the front of the museum.

It was quiet. 

The clock struck the hour-

And then the air was split by a loud caterwauling. 

Sammy tensed. 

It’s like the world explodes into color, dyed smoke being set alight by the bright lights and… is that... music? 

Out of the corner of his eye he can see Inspector Moritaka _twitch_ , his arms shoved stiffly to his sides as his foot starts tapping. And then his arms move despite his struggles to keep then still and he starts to splutter out grawlix, practically chewing on them as other Task Force members start to fall prey to the boogie bomb that Gille had just tossed into the entrance. 

The villain strides into the chaos and through the smoke like a phantom, a sharp assured grin on his face. Sammy’s eyes narrow into a glare. Gille Trebble’s grin grows _wider_. 

“Why hello, nemesis.” he practically purrs, dancing around the dancing members of the task force designated to capture him and marching right up to poke Sammy in the chest. He darts back out of range with a judicious use of Expeditious Retreet, an evil cackle trailing after as Sammy surges forward to grab him and misses. 

“DAMN YOU TREBBLE!” Inspector Moritaka bellows as he pulls a giggling Casey in for a dance as the music swells around them. 

“You got this Sammy!” Casey cheers as the Inspector twirls her around in a smeerframe pirouette that ends in him dipping her, her root like leg lifting up gracefully.

Sammy glances back at the trapped group of task force and nods. “I’ll get him this time.” he vows and then takes off after Gille. They tear down the hall, past several paintings of important figures in Einquell history and he catches out of the corner of his eye the defaced painting of Altwe Gisnep - Gille having drawn a curly mustache identical to his own on the Reelkind ruler of the kingdom in the time Sammy had hesitated. Sammy rolls his eyes and looks back to Gille’s retreating back and starts to dash, quickly catching up to the other toon. 

Gille glanced back at Sammy and the toon’s glasses glint in the museum's lights, obscuring his glowing orange eyes. “Try to doge _this!_ ” he crows.

And then he tosses a jar full of something that shimmers into the air. Sammy jerks to the side - but it’s too late. The jar of glitter explodes into a spray of shimmering particles and leaves him coughing out… sugar… was this _edible glitter?_ Sammy shakes himself free of most of the glittery mess and growls - but his shading doesn’t shift to red. It stays an orangey gold, and he grins from underneath his dark grey mask, eyes shimmering in golden delight. 

“Get back here, Gille!” 

There is the sound of a raspberry being blown several paces ahead. “Make me!” 

Sammy cracks his neck. “Alright.” he agrees and points a finger at the toon. “I’ll _make_ you.”

Gille meeps as the shimmering rainbow radiance passes by him by several inches and then he sticks out his tongue at Sammy, pulling down his eyelid from behind his glasses. “Nyeeeh! You missed! I thought you were going to _‘make me’_!” 

Sammy growls, his shading shifting to a slightly redder orange, making the villain cackle as Gille dances tauntingly in place. 

“Can’t catch me, can’t catch me!” he says with a snicker before turning around and dashing off again. 

Sammy stares at how the villain’s long curling red hair flows after him in beautiful smooth animation, his shading flushing to a warm pink - then he shakes his head sharply as orange mixes with the rosy hue - and gives chase. 

They end up in the gems and mineral selection. Sammy would feel like an idiot, but he’s too busy trying to stop Gille from making off with a diamond that’s nearly half the size of his head. Their cat and mouse chase takes them through the fossils section and Gille pauses for a brief second to stare contemplatively at the triceratops skeleton. “I bet a necromancer could make a really cool steed after one of those _eep_!” 

Sammy’s hands miss Gille’s jacket by centimeters and Gille cackles as he jangles backwards. Sammy growls, orange shifting to something almost red. Gille’s smirk widens and he wiggles in place again, taunting Sammy wordlessly before speaking. “Missed me! Again! Boy, you’re really off your game tonight, huh? Is something wooong?” he bats his eyelashes at Sammy, his voice soft and mocking. 

Sammy _fumes_ even as his shading wars between red and pink and settles on a deep fuschia. “I. _am going to get you, Gille Trebble.”_ he growls. 

“I’d like to see you try!” the villain cackles and then darts up a set of stairs without any warning. 

Of course, Sammy gives chase. 

~*~

Somewhere in the celestial plane, Prismatone, the toonkind deity of soul and voice, lets out a frustrated musical groan. 

“They’re both so _oblivious,_ babe!” she complains to the crab deity with heart shaped glasses who hums comiseratively as she flops on top of him. 

“I know, I know. Both their Wis Scores are awful, but we love our boy regardless.” Crunkle, the toonkind deity of love pats the love of his immortal life sympathetically. 

There is a cackle from behind them as Psychopomp rears his pumpkin head back and _laughs_ . “I don’t know about you two but _this_ is entertainment!” the spirit says gamely with a snort as he pulls out a box of popcorn.

The two gods look at eachother and Prismatone slides off Crunkle and makes a demanding gesture. “Share the popcorn, ‘pomp. But even _you_ have to admit that this is getting _ridiculous_.” 

The spirit of Halloween snickers. “It’s not my usual fare of entertainment but you _have_ to admit it’s funny how they keep dancing around eachother, right?” he holds out the popcorn then darts away with a cackle after the deity of soul had grabbed a few small kernels of popcorn. 

Prismatone darts after the spirit with a shout and there is a tussle as the popcorn goes flying into the celestial ether - Crunkle watches this through his heart shaped eyes and hums in contemplation, rubbing his crustacean fingers against his red fuzz. 

“...If we really wanted to give them a kick in the pants we can do… something.” he says slowly and looks between his girlfriend and the trickster-friend who is currently in a headlock. Somehow, his girlfriend’s black knuckles are managing to noogie the pumpkin headed spirit without any problems. The power of a gag, Crunkle reflects. 

“It is rather drastic however.” he feels the need to caution as he sees Prismatone perk up. “He could be irreparably changed from it. If he doesn’t reach out...”

“He will.” Prismatone says firmly, letting Psychopomp go to stride up to her partner’s side, popcorn long forgotten. “His heart is full of love, even if he’s oblivious.”

“It’s dangerous…” Crunkle sighs even as Prismatone snuggles up to him and he wraps an arm around her side. “Are you sure?”

Psychopomp cackles. “Even more entertainment? Fantastic!” the spirit summons his spilt popcorn from where it had gone off flying and this time, splits it in three equal parts. 

“He won’t do _anything_ with his feelings if we don’t push him.” she grumbles, resting her head against his shoulder and casually ignoring the spirit for the moment.

“A toast!” the spirit declares, dropping the popcorn buckets into the two deities’s laps and thrusting his own bucket in the air like a wine glass, not caring for how much popcorn he spilt. “To two idiots who don’t realize they’re in love!” 

“We’ll see about _that_.” Prismatone sighs melodically as she raises her own popcorn bucket. “To love.”

Crunkle chuckles and nods, raising his own bucket. “To love.” he squeezes Prismatone gently and drops a kiss to her brow. 

“TO LOVE!” Psychopomp cackles.

~*~

They reach the roof. _Of course_ Gille would want the final show down to be on the roof. They’re both winded, having charged up several flights of stairs. 

Sammy can hear the shouting of the rest of the Task Force as they run around the perimeter of the museum, trying to find Gille in the wake of the Boogie Bomb. The spot lights are enough that both of them can clearly see eachother and Sammy grins sharply underneath his mask, gold eyes dancing and shading a bright orange tinged with pink and yellow. 

“Nowhere for you to run this time, Gille.” he says and takes several quick steps forward, rushing the other toon with a reckless attack. 

He manages to grab Gille around the wrist, spinning the smaller imp toon around as he’d turned to run towards the edge of the roof and tugging him close. The villain stares up at Sammy, eyes wide from behind his glasses and mouth making the tiniest of ‘o’s, lips mildly glossy in the bright spotlights.

Sammy swallows thickly. “...got you.” he says hoarsely as his shading _shifts_ to a deep warm pink. 

Gille’s eyes narrow. “Do you?” he says challengingly.

And then Sammy is coughing on smoke as Gille rips his hand away. Sammy waves the smoke away and gives chase. 

“Gille, _stop!_ ” 

Gille turns to look at Sammy with a sharp toothed grin. “Nah, how about _you_ , stop.” he shoots back and suddenly Sammy freezes in place mid run. 

Gille grins. “Hold Person is such a nice spell.” he says smugly, tossing the giant diamond in his hands for a few moments before shoving it into his pocket where it disappears into his hammerspace. The villain steps back until he’s on the edge of the roof, wind dramatically sweeping his long red hair up and around him in gloriously animated frames. 

Sammy struggles against the magic restraining him, something thick in his stomach - concern and thril mixing and making him feel sick. He watches as Gille jauntily waves, and then falls straight backward off the edge. The Hold Person breaks and he surges towards, hands gripping tightly to the edge of the room with a cut off shout- then slumps in bone melting relief as the villain slides down a rope of celebratory flags that the museum had hung up to announce a new exhibit and into the night - once again escaping capture. 

The tall toon sighs and lightly hits the cinderblock edge. “Damn you tricky pecker.” he says softly, warm despite himself. 

There’s a strange tickle at the back of his throat and he coughs sharply into his hand. Something wet and velvety splats into his palm and his shading goes grey in confusion as he stares down at the wet purple petal that had just come from his mouth. 

He grimaces and shakes it out of his palm just as the door to the roof slams open and Inspector Morinaka bursts into the roof, voice already shouting threats and grawlix. Sammy turns around to inform the Inspector of Gille’s escape, and quickly forgets about the strange purple petal that was on the roof. 


	2. Exacerbation

Sammy can’t stop thinking about Gille all the way home from the heist and debrief. The way he’d been highlighted in the spotlights, long hair flowing gracefully as if underwater almost, the framerate so high and breath catching. And then he’d fallen and Sammy had thought he’d lost him for a heart stopping moment. 

Just like the pecker to do that to him. 

Sammy can’t help but _smile_ , fond and pleasantly exasperated and - 

He coughs against a familiar tickle in his throat and he stares in bafflement and a little bit of nervousness at the small purple petal in the palm of his hand, damp and velvety. That isn’t… that isn’t normal, right? 

It’s not normal. 

And it only gets worse the more he thinks about Gille Trebble, the villain who was… rather soft in places for a villain. He didn’t kill people. He had lines that he wouldn’t cross. He liked poking at people and their buttons, seeing them react and explode into action. He loved being chased- 

He has to stop at the edge of the sidewalk and breathe through a series of coughs that wrack his entire outline, petals falling out of his mouth in a flood and making him gag. He tugs his mask down off his chin and scrubs at his lips, eyes scrunched. 

What the peck. _What the peck was happening to him_?! 

There is a flash of divine direction that slots into his brain, soothing the purple shading spreading across his skin and shifting it to a calm pale cream and he turns his feet away from the paths that would lead him to home and instead deeper into Toontown, the moon high in the sky and illuminating the way. 

Sammy had never planned to stay in Toontown. He was an urchin. He went where his feet traveled, and he had never once given thought to staying longer than it took for him to get some food and maybe shelter. Sammy had arrived in Toontown just in time to participate in the battle alongside the river - and then he met Koda. His rough spun younger brother, fuzzy and cute and capable of biting a finger off if you touched him on a bad day. And Sammy found himself incapable of leaving. 

He couldn’t leave. 

Even though, by logic, he should have a long time ago. 

But Toons don’t work with Logic. Not like that. And Sammy was tired of wandering with no home to come back to. 

His feet take him to an abandoned theater. He’s been here before. He squeezes past a dilapidated fence surrounding the back courtyard and he stares up at the statue of the god he follows wholeheartedly - completely unmasked and his hood down on his shoulders. 

A lonely boy once talked to statues, seeing something reflected in the way that no one seemed to care or even remember them, and got a reply. 

He doesn’t speak at first - he has a task to do. A ritual all of his own that he had started accidentally, years and years before he even knew what his god’s name was. 

He rips up the overgrown grass - fewer than the first time he had visited - and the weeds that try to strangle the dry fountain. He gently redirects the ivy to other places and soon his hands and knees are caked with dirt but the job is done. 

Prismatone’s statue is once again clear of any encroaching plants and greenery that would shroud her identity and it is now, that Sammy begins to talk. He keeps coughing up petals as he speaks and he’s close to tears by the end, his shading a muted grey-purple because _he doesn’t understand_ -

“Hello, Sammy.” 

Prismatone’s voice is just as warm and comforting as Sammy remembers it and he rushes into the god’s arms, burrowing his face into her side as he wraps his arms around her and _clings_. 

“I don’t understand, what’s _wrong_ with me? Why do i keep coughing up petals everytime I think about him-”

“Shhh…” she rocks him slightly, her arms wrapped around him securely like a warm blanket. “You’re in love, sweetie. Sometimes, when a Ghiblian toon falls in love, they get sick. It’s called Hanahaki.”

Sammy stares up at her, golden eyes wide. “I… I’m sick?” 

She reaches down and gently smoothes her fingers on his white head, fingertips tracing the marks she had gifted him. “You are, but you can get better. You just need to be brave and tell him.” 

Sammy _blanches_ , his shading shifting from bright pink to a mauve. He frantically shakes his head and burrows deeper into her arms, hiding his face. 

She rubs his back. “Oh, Sammy… What are you so scared of?”

“I don’t want to ruin it.” his voice is quiet but choked with tears. “He loves being chased and if he knows, what if he thinks I won’t do a good job anymore? I-I I don’t want to _ruin_ that for him, he’s already had an awful nemesis and i don’t want to hurt him-”

“How can such a sweet love hurt him? You don’t want to stop chasing him, do you?” 

“But a nemesis pair shouldn’t fall in love.” Sammy says quietly and she can _hear_ the self deprecation in his voice.

She takes his chin in her hand and gently tilts his head up so she can see his face, her thumb wiping away the tears before they can fall.

“Sammy, listen to me. You are a beautiful toon. You are _good_ for him. And he’s good for you - despite a few hiccups in those early days - and you want him to be better, and he wants _you_ to be better and together you two will soar to great heights. You just have to… take that leap of faith. Take the first step. Be _brave_ Sammy. I know you can do it.”

Sammy sucks in a sharp breath and nods. 

Prismatone beams at him and sweeps him into another warmth filled hug. 

“You’re going to be _amazing_.” she tells him, kissing him on the brow where three of the petals of her mark rest. 

He closes his golden eyes - and when he opens them again, he is alone with just the statue of a forgotten god for company. 

~*~

Koda is dozing fitfully in the apartment’s small living room when Sammy finally gets home. The little imp mumbles in his sleep, grey paws flexing from underneath his loafed position on the back of the couch and Sammy’s shading softens to a warm contented rose pink brushed with gold. 

“Tried to wait up for me, huh?” he quietly murmurs and then scoops up his little brother into his arms, cradling the smaller toon in his arms. 

A red eye opens a slit as claws threaten to dig into his arm before slowly retracting. Sammy knows Koda would forever deny what happened next as the small toon snuggled into the crook of Sammy’s arm with a quiet grumble. 

“...catch?” Koda’s grumbling voice, weighed even further with sleep, asks him.

“Almost. I had him but he’s a slippery pecker and escaped again.” Sammy says as he walks towards their bedroom.

“Pecker.” Koda sleepily snickers, his ears perking up. “Chase more?”

“Yeah… I want to keep chasing him.” Sammy says softly. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

Koda wordlessly grumbles and shuts his eyes fully, content to know that Sammy is home safe and sound. 

His footsteps are quiet, the floorboards barely creaking underfoot as he steps off from the wooden floor onto the plush carpet of the bedroom he shares with his younger brother. He sets Koda down on his mound of pillows and the bat-like toon circles around in place for a few moments and then flops back down into a contented loaf position, grey wings stretched out over his back like a blanket. Sammy tucks one of the blankets in around Koda and there is a quiet sleepy grumble. 

“Night, Koda.” Sammy whispers, smoothing a warmly shaded hand over his brother’s forehead and rubbing the spot behind his horns where he knew Koda secretly liked it. 

The grumble turns to something a little more like a purr before finally settling into a sleepy snore, little Z’s floating up to hover around the purple toon’s head. 

“Sammy?” the familiar voice of Billy Barkson comes from behind him.

Sammy jolts, whirling around with wide golden eyes. “Y-yes?” 

Barkson stares at Sammy for a moment, something in his gaze unreadable as his nose twitches in a sniff. “...Why don’t you come sit down. How did the case go - it’s pretty late, they didn’t keep you too long doing paperwork did they?” 

Sammy’s shading turns a sheepish spring green, “N-no.” 

Barkson lets out a rumbling hum and jerks his head towards the kitchen’s counter space with some stools. “C’mon, Sammy, I’ll make you some hot chocolate and you can tell me how it went.” 

Sammy slowly nods and follows the old toon into the kitchen. He slides onto a stool, hands fiddling with his sleeves. “...you’re not calling me ‘Kid’.”

Barkson pauses from where he was pulling out a pot and sighs, setting it down on the unlit stove. “I can smell it on you, Kid.” 

Sammy blanches to a stark purple, scrambling back. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking abou-” his leg catches on the stool and he topples backwards with a high pitched yelp. 

Barkson lunges across the counter and catches Sammy’s flailing wrist in a vice grip, preventing him from smacking his head against the floor. “Stop. _Running._ ” there’s a growl in the old security guard’s voice and it makes Sammy freeze as he’s pulled upright. “Is it that blue haired kid you run around with sometimes?”

Sammy’s shading shifts to bright pink. “Chifley? Wh- _no!”_

“It’s Trebble then.”

The color and saturation of the rosey hue turns so bright it can’t even be called a shadow anymore, more of a highlight than anything. “No, Gille has n-”

And he chokes.

Sammy bends over the counter, free hand clasped tightly around his lips as he fights against the tickle in the back of his throat. It’s worse this time. He can feel the velvety petals dragging against his tongue, piling up against his teeth and it’s all he can do to not chew them to shreds as they make him gag.

Barkson is watching this with an unreadable gaze, paw still resting on Sammy’s wrist. 

“Just let it out before you suffocate, Sammy.” his voice is soft. 

Sammy lets out a little noise of protest as he screws his eyes shut and that’s all it takes- the tickling feeling turning sharp and _scratchy_ and he coughs. And coughs. And _coughs_ as the flowers spill onto the counter with a wet _splat!_ He doesn’t dare look at them, but he could feel the starch of stem and leaf and he knows it’s not just a single flower petal that he’d coughed up.

Over his wheezing shaky breathing, he hears Barkson sigh and his paws padding against the hardwood floor - deliberately standing on the creakiest boards so Sammy doesn’t startle when the old dog toon pulls Sammy into a one armed hug. Tears slip down his cheeks and he sniffles, leaning into Barkson’s touch as his throat aches.

“We’re going to fix this, Kid.” he says softly. “I’ll book you an appointment, they can get them out for you and you don’t have to worry about it ever again.”

Sammy looks up sharply, pulling away from the hug to fully see Barkson’s face. “...What do you mean by that?”

Barkson sighs, explosively as if he were chewing on one of his cigars. “There’s a procedure. They can take the flowers out of you, prune the whole damn thing to stubs then yank it out by the roots.” 

Something about the way Barkson is speaking, it's... the colors in the dog's voice at the edges of Sammy's vision are all spiked and dull, and it sends alarms screaming in his mind. Prismatone had told him the flowers happened because he was in love with Gille. They were tied to his emotions. What... What would happen to them if they were... _removed_?

Sammy slides off the stool, “...What aren’t you telling me - Barkson, what will it do to my feelings for him, I can’t-”

Barkson reaches for Sammy again and Sammy jerks back, stumbling on his feet a little. “NO. Barkson, _what does it do!_ ”

“You won’t have any feelings for him.” Barkson says plainly. “You’ll just be chaser, he’ll be chased- Sammy you’re _compromised_ . Do you really mean to tell me you want to keep him free to continue the chase _indefinitely_?” 

The colors coming off of Barkson's voice are even more muted now, nearly grey and so sharp they feel like knives in Sammy's chest as his shading shifts from pink to something stronger, something darker.

“You think I let him go on _purpose_?!” he splutters. 

“Not this time, but eventually you’re going to need to make a choice and letting that criminal go is _not_ the right one! Eventually your game is going to end and he’ll spend his time behind bars - _do you really want that_ ? Someone you love in _prison_?”

Sammy’s shaking his head so violently that his head in a motion blur of smear frames. He’s backed up past the couches at this point, the door is right behind. “No. _No_ you’re not making me give him up! I _won’t_ give him up!”

He coughs again, and it _scratches_ at his throat as an entire sprig plops wetly into his hand.

“Sammy!”

Sammy glares at Barkson, his shading red, red, red and he wipes at the corner of his mouth with the back of one hand while the other reaches behind him. The knob turns and he yanks the door open.

“SAMMY!” Barkson belows, darting forward.

But Sammy is a barbarian with rage in his veins. 

And we all know just how fast they can be when they dash.

~*~

After his success at the museum, Gille sticks to a few… tamer ways to rile up Sammy. Which is to say Sammy had nearly smacked him into the ground when they’d locked gazes and Gille had deliberately shoved an entire stall over, sending the items scattering all across the street. 

The subsequent chase took them through a book store where Gille took the opportunity to rearrange the entire catalogue of tomes, idly pocketing a few, and a moment where Sammy nearly _caught_ him again when he’d snatched a canister of paint from a nearby mural artist and slung it all against the other wall in a brilliant display of blue. 

Gille snickers as Sammy glares at him, even while he pulls out a large can of blue paint from his hammerspace and hands it to the sputtering artist.

“What the hell, Gille! You can’t just do that!”

Gille shrugs, loose and easy. “Why should I _care_? It doesn’t affect me-” his glowing orange eyes glance behind Sammy. “Oh hey isn’t that your Dad.”

“SAMMY.” 

Sammy’s loose posture of someone getting ready to enjoy some banter suddenly tenses as Barkson bellows his name. His teeth audibly grind and he surges forward in an attempt to grab Gille. 

“Woah! Touu _uchy_!”

“Damn it Gille just stay _still!”_ Sammy snapped, and Gille darts out of the way his expression clouding into one of confusion. 

“What has gotten _into_ you?” he asks, baffled. 

“SAMMY JAX YOU GET BACK HERE-” 

Sammy screams in frustration and makes one last attempt to grab Gille’s wrist. Gille spins out of the way with all the grace of an acrobat in the middle ring, sticking out his tongue. But his smug expression falters when Sammy tosses a single glance back and then turns around and _dashes_ , leaving him 80 feet behind. 

“HEY!” Gille splutters, giving chase with an Expeditious Retreat fueled dash. “Get _back here!”_

Gille’s magic surges from his hand and a laughing jack o'lantern latches onto the back of Sammy’s hood, leaving a trail of orange magic for Gille to follow.

~*~

It’s a harrowing feeling, being the one chased, Sammy finds. He hasn’t missed it. He can’t let Barkson take him in. _He can’t_. 

His feet pound the ground, taking twisting turns and launching over fences all in an attempt to loose his guardian who has just the stupidest superpower to sniff out people from the slightest traces - _damn it_! 

He can hear Gille yelling at him, his voice strangled and out of breath. His chest aches and he fights the urge to stop and cough until his airways clear. 

He can’t risk stopping. Not even for the person his flowers grow for. 

Damn it! Why hadn’t Barkson understood?! 

He angrily dashes the tears from his eyes, his shading a mottled mix of blue and red. 

...why couldn’t he accept that Gille was the one who’d stolen Sammy’s heart? 

~*~

Sammy turns a corner just as an hour passes, and the jack o’lantern sigil shatters into motes of orange, the trail dead. Gille spins around the corner, wheezing and clanging, to find it an empty dead end. He backs up, glancing around to see if he can spot where his nemesis went and starts running in the opposite direction. 

He doesn’t realize it yet, but he wouldn’t see his nemesis for a long while. 

Sammy had gone to ground. 


	3. On the Other Side

It wasn’t until the fourth time Gille robbed a bank in a row that he twigged to something being wrong. 

Sammy had never shown up. 

He always showed up.

It was their  _ thing _ .

Gille, doing some dastardly thing that really in the long run wouldn’t  _ harm _ anyone. And Sammy, well. Sammy was a goody two shoes. Had been from the start. He never would have let Gille rob a bank - let alone  _ four _ . 

He taps his foot idly, tail swishing back and forth, a deep frown on his face even as the teller behind the counter cowers. He lets out a loud annoyed groan and dumps the bag of money - comically oversized - onto the floor. The bag leaves a crater from the gold bars stuck in there and green paper bills go flying and he is stomping out of the bank.

The last thing he hears is the baffled, “We don’t even  _ carry _ bills like this-” from the teller before the bank doors slam shut and Gille slips out into the forming crowd just as the police show up - late as ever. 

Movement catches his eye, and it makes his head swivel just in time to catch sight of a familiar dog toon also slip into the crowd, clearly trying to sniff something or  _ someone _ out. Gille’s eyes narrow behind his glasses and he slips into the shadows of the nearest alley leading to where Barkson was headed. 

He’s only a few paces away from the old dog when Barkson’s ear twitches - Gille doesn’t know what exactly alerted the toon to his presence but the fact is that the toon, instead of doing the smart thing and running, turns to face him. He reaches out from the shadows and grabs the other toon by the lapels, dragging him into the dark of the alley and  _ pinning _ him against the wall, feet dangling a little off the ground. 

“ _ Where is he. _ ” Gille hisses, getting right into the old guard’s space and baring his sharp, sharp, sharp teeth at him. “ _ Where is my nemesis you old pooch.  _ Because last I saw? Was you chasing after him and he didn’t look like he wanted to see you. What. Did. You. Do. To.  _ Him. _ ”

Gille’s eyes are glowing, radiating orange across the entire alleyway. The shadows seem to stretch and elongate, and there is something  _ smiling _ from behind Gille’s own shadow, sharp and sinister and  _ threatening _ . 

Gille presses his arm up against Barkson’s windpipe, keeping him pinned as he presses in even closer, sharp teeth practically  _ snapping _ against Barkson’s snout. “Now you are going to tell me  _ everything _ , or you’re going to be missing some  _ very important appendages. _ ” 

To emphasize, he snaps pointedly at Barkson’s nose, making the old dog flinch back. 

Satisfied that he’s made his point, Gille loosens his grip - if just so Barkson could actually  _ give  _ him the information he wanted. The dog toon gasps for breath, coughing slightly. Gille doesn’t care.  _ Why _ would he care when this toon obviously is the cause for Sammy’s disappearance. 

“Did you  _ hurt _ him? No one’s allowed to hurt him but  _ me.”  _ Gille hisses when the other toon doesn’t reply fast enough. 

His claw like fingers dig into Barkson’s shoulders, making him wince.

“I don’t think Sammy would approve of-”

“TO HELLS WHAT SAMMY WOULD APPROVE OF.” Gille roars, “HE’S GONE AND I WANT TO KNOW WHERE THE PECK HE WENT AND  _ WHY. _ ” 

Barkson stares at Gille, eyes wide and then he just starts laughing, the type that starts at a low chuckle and then grows until you just can’t stop laughing. Gille pulls back slightly, thrown by the response and that’s when Barkson lashes out a precise punch to Gille’s solar plexus, causing him to stumble back with a wheeze. The old toon sweeps his feet from under him and draws his crossbow, pointing it at Gille’s face. 

“ _ Now you listen here, Trebble. _ ” Barkson snarls, “I’m not one to take assault lightly. I could put you up into lockup just for what you just did to me-”

Gille snarls but Barkson merely raises an eyebrow, finger on the trigger, threat implied. 

"Oooh I'm so scared of a crossbow bolt.” Gille rolls his orange eyes with a scoff, “Get on with it, Barkson. All this dodging around my questions is making you look a little… villainous, one would say."

“Don’t drag me down to your level _Trebble._ _You’re_ the reason he’s so set on this suicidal course of action. Put it into his damn fool head of his.” 

This, of course, grabs Gille’s attention as if someone had yanked on his nose and forced him to look. “ _ Me _ ? What the hell did  _ I _ do?! This is not normal nemesis behavior! We have an entire system! I create chaos and he chases after me to fix it!” 

Barkson stows his weapon with a disgusted sigh, shaking his head. “I have no idea what he even sees in you. Go find that Chifley kid. If you really want to help Sammy, you’re going to need a cleric to clear out that damn Hanahaki.” 

Gille scrambles to his feet, “Wait what the hell does that-”

But Barkson is already gone, having left while Gille was still prone. 

~*~

The problem with having to find someone to help you was, oftentimes you had to remember where they tended to go in the first place. 

The first time Gille had kidnapped the blue haired toon, he was camped out in a motel with his little sister. ...which… while the  _ first  _ place that Gille had checked, had resulted in a tall toon dog lady screaming in his face and slamming the window shut. Which. Fair enough. At least she hadn’t got his tail in her haste to boot him out. 

After that though. Well. 

Toontown was huge. 

And Gille? 

Gille was not very good at navigating large cities.

He’d probably taken a wrong turn somewhere by the closed down flower shop that still had a bouquet of fresh flowers out front even though the shop was closed. Gille had stopped to admire the veritable rainbow of flowers, all neatly tied in a white ribbon. He’d particularly liked the flowers that were supposed to represent the violet part of the spectrum - purple snapdragons. Though he didn’t quite get why there were  _ so many roses _ ? 

Yeah.

At some point, he had crossed the river again for what seemed to be the tenth time and had watched as a few faint ice cubes drifted past, burbling threateningly. Gille stared at them and blinked. ...Huh. ...Hadn’t his nemesis’ favorite movie been filmed around here?

Maybe he was getting closer. 

Maybe he needed to get into some of the alleys. Sammy always seemed to pop out of nowhere when he took alleys. 

…

Gille was even more lost now. 

He takes a moment to look up at the sky and just quietly scream his frustration, shaking his fist at a random cloud as it drifted past. It didn’t change the fact that he was lost, that his nemesis was missing and he still needed to find Chifley, who would help with whatever this ‘hanahaki’ business was. 

It did make him feel a little better though. A little less frustrated and liable to bite someone’s head off. That was messy. 

Eventually, he found his way back out of the alleys just as it was growing to be dusk. Worry was leaden in his stomach, giving him a sense of urgency that he usually didn’t feel. 

His heart leapt every time he saw a toon with blue hair, only to sink back down when he’d get to the front and find that, no, this was  _ not _ Chifley Forde. Just as the sun sinks below the horizon, Gille strikes gold in the form of a toon about the same height as him, with a  _ very _ familiar outfit.

Before he can even shout out Chifley’s name, the toon tilts his head and turns around with a soft, very fond smile.

“Hello again, Gille - have you come to kidnap me in your plot to drive Sammy up the wall again?” His voice is warm and buttery and makes Gilles insides do weird things- similar to when Gille had first kidnapped the blue haired toon. 

“Sammy’s gone.”

Chifley’s smile disappears. 

“What.”

Gille speeds up and reaches out to grab Chifley by the wrist, dragging him down the street, tail lashing agitatedly. “Sammy’s gone. He ran off after a fight with Barkson and I haven’t seen him since. I don’t know where he is. Barkson said something about a Hanahaki and needing a cleric and-”

“Gille,  _ stop! _ ”

The unusually sharp tone causes Gille to halt in his tracks, staring at Chifley with wide orange eyes from behind his glasses.

“You said  _ hanahaki _ ?” Chifley’s voice cracks slightly and Gille frowns.

“That’s what Barkson said. Asshole said it was my fault. How can it be  _ my _ fault if I don’t even know what a hanahaki is! ...Why are you putting your face in your hands? What is it??”

“No, nope. I am  _ not _ -” Chifley drags his hands down his face, sounding completely and utterly done. “Ohhh you two are  _ such  _ a pair, you deserve each other, you really do.” 

Gille’s tail lashes irritably. “Chifley. What is it.”

“Sammy’s sick.” Chifley says bluntly. “It’s a special type of sickness that affects toons who are in love with other people who don’t feel the exact same way. It normally isn’t a problem, the toon confesses to the subject of affection and the condition resolves itself.”

“Then… why did he run away?”

“Because if my suspicion is right, Sammy has an older case of Hanahaki. The traditional kind.” Chifley is rummaging around in his hammerspace as he speaks and pulls out a forked twig. “And it can be deadly.”

The dread is a lead weight in Gille’s chest as he feels his heart constrict. “...Deadly how?”

“Traditionally, you choke on the flowers as they take over your design. Sammy’s options are either confessing or getting a surgery that removes the love that started the disease in the first place.”

Several lightbulbs pop up above Gille’s head and light up with a flickering light. But the most important bulb stubbornly remained unlit. He reaches out and grabs Chifley’s wrist again and dragging him down the street again.

“We need to get you to Sammy so he can confess!” 

Chifley stares at Gille with clear disbelief written all over his face before he throws the hand holding forked twig up in the air in exasperation. “At least let me cast Locate Object first!”

Gille stops and lets Chifley go with a conflicted expression on his face as his hand reaches up to rub at his chest as his heart  _ constricts _ . It has to be the scar, it has to. Gille can’t be, he can’t be  _ jealous _ . 

Sammy’s heart was never his to begin with! 

It belonged to Chifley. 

...so why did it feel like Gille had been stabbed clean through again?

~*~

As they follow the spell through Toontown, the twig in Chifley’s hands tugging subtly right or left, the cleric peppers Gille with questions that quickly reveal that when Gille had said he’d known nothing about Hanahaki, he had meant  _ nothing _ . Not when Sammy had contracted it, nor when exactly Sammy had actually run off after their last encounter, or who the actual subject of Sammy’s affections was. The last part made Chifley want to drag his hands across his face and scream again. But he couldn’t let go of the twig, otherwise the spell would break and he’d have to burn  _ another _ spell slot. 

He didn’t know if Sammy would need any healing when they found him, what the damage would be, how far along the condition would be. Would Sammy even be able to talk? 

The streets are getting older, and… wait a moment, has Chifley been here before? The cleric pauses, eyebrows creasing even as the twig tugs impatiently forward, urging him to continue. 

“...Chifley, what’s wrong?” Gille asks, peering at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“...I… I think I know where Sammy went. C’mon, we have to hurry.” 

Sure enough, the spell guides him down an alley and then past an old movie theater, it’s ornate pillars and signs long abandoned. He stops at a dilapidated fence and chews on his lip, hesitating. The twig tugs insistently in his hands and Gille gestures impatiently at Chifley to keep going. 

“Sammy showed me this place after we first met.” Chifley says quietly. “Please, Gille, whatever we find here, please don’t laugh at him. He’s most likely trying to talk to his god. Which is a good sign I think.”

“What do you mean-” 

Chifley pulls open a crooked slat of fence and slips through the gap without answering, his feet quietly trailing through the overgrown garden with barely a sound and he quietly approaches the figure in greys half-collapsed at the feet of the statue of a long-forgotten god. A pile of gleaming wet purple flowers coated in pink ink and uprooted grass by his rainbow freckled arms. 

“Oh, Sammy…” Chifley sighs, his hands already glowing with warm healing magic as he reaches over and smooths his hand over rainbow strands of hair, gently tucking it back into Sammy’s hood and tugging it securely over his head. “Come on, someone’s here to talk to you.”

Sammy stirs weakly, blinking open golden eyes up at Chifley. “...Chif…? Wh…” and then his eyes move farther as the loud clanking footsteps of Gille in his armor draws attention to the purple imp and Sammy  _ freezes _ . 

Chifley turns to look at Gille, and his own heart aches for the raw open wound Gille is emoting. He looks back at Sammy and frowns as a look of absolute devastation crosses over Sammy’s unmasked face.

“No…” Sammy whispers, and then bends over and starts to cough. 

And coughs.

And  _ coughs _ .

And  **_coughs_ ** . 

Chifley grabs Sammy’s hand, pulling it away from his mouth as ink and an entire bushel of flowers pours out of his mouth. 

“ _ Gille get over here NOW!”  _ Chifley’s voice is sharp with all the command of a battle cleric on the field as he burns another spell slot. It won’t be enough, he knows it won’t be enough-

He can see Gille still standing there, rooted to the spot and he grits his teeth. 

“GILLE, YOU IDIOT GET OVER HERE OR SAMMY  _ WILL DIE _ .” 

“He doesn’t feel… he doesn’t feel the same, Chif…” Sammy gasps, tears streaming down his face as he chokes for breath. 

Chifley pulls Sammy up, wrapping his arms around the taller toon. “Don’t you say that,  _ he hasn’t even heard you out, you can’t make that decision for him, Sammy. Damn it Gille!  _ Get OVER HERE! _ ” _

Sammy wheezes on a cough that’s more like a sob and more ink and flowers spill out. “He doesn’t, he doesn’t, I  _ can’t _ -” 

“Sammy you’re killing yourself, please, you have to let him hear you out!” 

“...Sammy? What… what is he talking about?” Gille’s voice is quiet, hesitant. “I thought… I thought you loved Chifley.” 

Sammy laughs bitterly. “I do!” 

Chifley  _ freezes _ . 

“...What?”


End file.
